Dinner with the Young Dutchman and His Father

After trying to be sensible on Sunday and stay home and rest with my leg up on the couch, I was going absolutely stir-crazy with cabin fever. So when the Young Dutchman popped up on Facebook chat to ask how I was doing, I was eager for the distraction.

He asked what I was up to and I moaned about my knee for a bit, at which point he said, "Dad's here this evening too so was thinking of maybe getting some food somewhere and inviting you too, but now I'm not so sure! Sounds like you need to rest!"

Horrified at the thought of missing a change to get out of the house, I begged him to reconsider, promised I could walk and that I would be well-behaved.  So he gave me the directions on where and when to go, and although it was a struggle to get out (while walking I had to stop every few paces just to pause, catch my breath, and regroup to carry on), but since I'd left early enough to give myself time, I arrived at the restaurant before everyone else.

The Young Dutchman called to let me know that he would be a bit late, so I went and took a seat and waited for everyone else.  They were all about ten minutes late, but it was just such a pleasure to be out. I sat next to the Young Dutchman and across from Kellogg Boy, who also came out despite being a bit worse for wear, as he was ill.

The evening was an interesting take in the contrast between the Young Dutchman and his father.  His father was a lovely guy, tall, grey-haired with a mustache, not sharing much with my own father in appearance but a lot in personality.  Very warm, nice guy, obviously very loving and huggable like my own dad.  What did amuse me however, is since the Young Dutchman learned to speak English at the age of 4, he really has no discernible accent, but his father has quite a thick Dutch accent.  I suppose that is to be expected (anyone who learns English as a foreign language as an adult, and who lives in a country where they speak Dutch all of the time) is likely to have a Dutch accent, but for some reason this still took me by surprise.

Still, we had a good conversation, one of the better ones I've had in a while.  Although it was funny to see the differences with what the Young Dutchman looked for in conversation (good and witty banter) and what his father did ( introspective and thought-provoking discussion).  Felt therefore a bit on balance between entertaining the Young Dutchman (thank goodness I am so clever and witty) and engaging in more "serious" conversation for his father.  Kellogg Boy was much better at the "serious" discussions, talking about the current situation in Syria.  When those conversations happened, you could just see the Young Dutchman checking out, mentally.  But then when I brought it back to banter, he was all for playing with me, even as you could see his father's mild frustration with that.  Still, the constant passing of the conversational ball meant for an interesting evening.

After dinner, Kellogg Boy left us, as he was feeling so ill and tired, but the Young Dutchman, his father and I decided to go to the Lansdowne for one last drink.  The Young Dutchman and his father had cycled to the restaurant however, and with my knee in the shape it was, I really needed the Tube. so the Young Dutchman came with me while his father cycled back to the club (lacking his Oyster card).  Gosh those Dutch, they really love their bicycles!

It was funny though, as I was having quite a bit of trouble with stairs and things on the Tube due to my knee, and the Young Dutchman, ever wanting to the the gentleman and help, kept trying to drag me up them.  Kind of him, but I kept having to laughingly insist that he leave me alone, that I just needed to go a bit more slowly!

Back at the Lansdowne, I sat with the Young Dutchman for a bit, just enjoying catching up about various things while we waited for his father.  And then when his father arrived, and I found myself listening to stories about the Young Dutchman's childhood and how he'd torn his ACL when he was younger.  I never would have known, as the Young Dutchman seems to be in such perfect shape now.  It somehow encouraged me, to know that one of my best friends had been through this, so perhaps I would come through it okay too.

Finally, it was late and only a Monday night, so the Young Dutchman and his father went back to their flat (just around the corner!) while I went home, much cheered for the first time since my accident.  There's something about the good company of your best friends that will do that for you...